


Rattling Our Hearts

by Valeriant



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Aedion/Lysandra, Aelin/Rowan - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom Lorcan, Elide is a BAMF, Elide is kinda submissive, Elide knows what shes doing, Elide/Lorcan - Freeform, F/M, Happy Ending, Lorcan Needs a Hug, Lorcan and Elide get it on, Lorcan is lovable, Lorcan tries to not think of Elide and fails miserably, Lorcan/Elide sexual tension, Lysandra is pretty cool, Manon is a bitch but its okay, Manon knows whats up, Manon/Dorian - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Slow burn but not that slow, Someone help my mind, Who Doesn't Love Lorcan?, mature - Freeform, more tags may be added, rated M for sexy times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeriant/pseuds/Valeriant
Summary: Set after the events of Empire of Storms, the fifth installment in the Throne of Glass series, by Sarah J. MaasLorcan Salvaterre is all Elide Lochan ever wanted in this life. That is, till he betrayed her and her kingdom for that Fae bitch, Maeve. After setting out to cross the continent, and several oceans, to retrieve her lost Queen, Elide finds herself in the company of a broken Rowan Whitethorne, a lost Gavriel, and a sulking Lorcan. She's not entirely sure what she wants- her heart tells her to forgive Lorcan, but her mind is a constant reminder of the pain he inflicted, not only on her, but on Aelin Galathynius, the only person alive who can possibly tell her what her future, and her past, hold, as well as the closest thing to family Elide has had in a very long time.To make matters worse, she knows exactly what Lorcan wants- sees it every time she meets his eyes. And that is a problem in itself; how can a man, a demi Fae, like Lorcan want to love her? How can she love him, when she can't even learn to love herself?Also known as a sorry excuse for plot, when in reality I just wanted some Elorcan fluff & smut and couldn't find any, so decided to dabble in fanfiction.





	1. Cinnamon & Elderberries

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for giving this a chance, much appreciated. A lil disclaimer: all of my characters, and any plot that is similar to the books or yada yada yada belongs entirely to Sarah J. Maas- Alllllll of it. Believe me, if I could have my very own collection of shockingly handsome, 6'1+ muscular men, you bet I would. The only thing I own is my imagination, and any plot that stems from it. So, not very much. And without further ado, I present Rattling Our Hearts.
> 
> "In which Elide plays with fire, as well as Lorcan's temper."

Elide Lochan felt numb as she stared out the frosted window. Their inn, albeit supposedly the nicest one in town, wasn’t immune to the harsh weather, and at nights she could hear the wind whistling through the walls. Elide supposed Lorcan could, too, and at that thought emotions swept up on her, and she felt like drowning in them. Rage, hurt, spite.

            _You don't need to answer me now. Or ever. You could show up on my doorstep in ten years, and the offer would still stand. But there is a place for you, in Perranth - should you ever need or wish for it._

Guilt.

Stupid. She was so, so stupid to think Lorcan could ever see her as more than an immature child, vying to belong to the Court of the woman her mother had died trying to protect. Fenrys and Gavriel, as well as Lorcan, had insisted she share a room with the traitor, at least till they were in Wendlyn, where they could make their way to Doranelle and search for Aelin. Rowan had insisted on it, too; that they needed to preserve their money for supplies, and she needed someone to guard her. He had offered to train her, be it in swords or archery or hand to hand combat, and Elide had told him when it wouldn’t raise suspicion she’d be glad too.

            _I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering._

            She had been so angry, so upset when she told him that. When she had been bitterly glad to see those dark eyes, a shade of black so deep it seemed like an abyss, glitter with pain. To watch his harsh expression melt, only to be replaced with one of agony.

            _I hope you spend it alone._

His dark hair, smooth and straight, barely an inch past his chin, had hung over his face as he swayed on his feet, towering over her. Even as she stared him down, and used words as a weapon, as a hammer to break him.

            _I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it._

            A horrible, awful part of Elide, a part she would never admit to Lorcan, missed him. Missed the way his hands, calloused from years of fighting, were gentle with only her. Missed his scent, and how his eyes would soften when only she spoke.

            She would never, ever admit that though. He had betrayed her queen- the woman she was born to serve, the woman forged from steel and fire who had fallen to her knees in the sand and let her own blood fall so Elide’s wouldn’t be whipped out of her too. A woman who had let herself be broken and bound in iron and carried across the sea so Elide didn’t have to suffer besides her. She would never let her feelings for some territorial, traitorous Fae overcome her gratefulness, her loyalty, to the young Queen of Terrasen. Elide was still contemplating her warring emotions when the door swung open.

            Some small part of her fell when it wasn’t Lorcan. Gavriel smiled at her warmly, a bowl in his hands. Steam was rising from it, and she was grateful for the food.

            “Thought you might like something to eat,” the Wolf of Doranelle said kindly. She supposed he was no longer the Wolf, cast out without honor. When she looked at him, she saw Aelin, and Aedion. Golden coins and glass thrones. It was hard to look at the fallen Wolf of Doranelle.

            Elide took the bowl from him, her stomach growling as she smiled at him, then the soup. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Gavriel grimaced slightly.

            “Fenrys also wanted me to pass on a message.” Elide raised one dark eyebrow. “He says you shouldn’t be too hard on Lorcan.”

            Elide managed to keep the smile on her face. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you for the dinner.” A dismissal, and one the Wolf got, from the way he exited with a graceful dip of his head. Limping over to the small, uneven table shoved in a corner of the room, she sat the bowl and herself down. Some small part of her knew she should go down to the tavern below, scout for information just as Rowan and  the others, except Lorcan, scouted nearby taverns. Draining the bowl, she made her way downstairs, ignoring the way the stairs creaked under her mangled ankle. That was something she missed too- Lorcan’s magic as her brace, a constant reminder he was there.

            Lorcan was already sat at a nearby table as she approached, people scattered around him. Elide forced herself to smile warmly, to look excited, to make her face and body do what she commanded it too. To give these people what they wanted to see.

            “Elide, I thought you were sleeping,” said Lorcan as she perched herself on the chair next to him, careful to keep her distance. He could smell her, the tantalizing mix of cinnamon and elderberries, as if it was sewn onto her delicate, pale body. Her white top was tight against her ample chest, and he felt his nostrils flare. He inched away from her, moved his eyes away from her tiny waist and round hips.

            “I was, till the rain woke me up,” Elide replied, a smile pasted onto her face. He sat back and watched as she charmed her way into conversations, easily picking out information that was given, trading fake stories for whatever the other travelers had to share.

            “No, we’re not from here,” she said, giggling a little. “My brother and I are traveling North, going to go see some family, our cousins wedding is soon, and we don’t want to miss it. Sadly, we’re stuck here till the weathers cleared up.”

            “North?” the man across from her asked, eyes wide. “I hear that’s where Aelin Galathynius’s Court travels, towards Ornyth.” Elide’s contagious laugh bubbled up again.

            “Oh, I’ve heard that too, but we’re heading more around Adarlyn’s outlying territories.” Elide let them tell her about Adarlyn’s recent developments, even though most of it was just confirmation for things she already knew. Let them keep chatting pleasantly with her, and occasionally a gruff comment from Lorcan, till it was time for all of them to retire. With parting, kind goodbyes, Lorcan followed her back up the stairs. Absent-mindedly, she noticed his magic bracing her ankle silently.

            Lorcan waited till they were upstairs, till Elide had begun to hastily take off her shoes, massaging her mangled ankle half-heartedly.

            “ _Brother_?” he growled. Elide barely looked at him.

            “You said it yourself, pretending to be my husband is unnecessary,” she replied coolly. Lorcan couldn’t disagree, he had said it when they were travelling with that piss-poor circus. But the idea of another man or male touching her, because she was unclaimed—Lorcan took a deep breath.

            “I thought you said you needed the protection only a husband can provide,” he spoke through closed teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing tightly.

            “Yes, but now we travel with Rowan, Fenrys, and Gavriel.” Her voice was slightly smug. “I don’t need you anymore, Lorcan.” He ignored how his blood sang at the way she said his name, the fact she said it all. Lorcan could feel his magic tensing, begging to rip at the walls around him. Gods forsake him, he _wanted_ her.

            “Whatever,” he snarled, nearly pacing to the other side of the bed and plopping down onto it. He watched in male satisfaction as her onyx eyes widened, those rosebud lips parting slightly.

            “Aren’t you going to sleep on the floor, or the couch?” she inquired.

            “Of course not, if we’re just siblings, I see no problem with us sleeping in the same bed,” Lorcan purred. He kicked his shoes off as a delicate, pink blush warmed her ivory colored cheeks. She didn’t respond, only got up and padded into the small closet, his magic still bracing her ankle. He could hear the rustling, and could smell his own scent mixing with hers. What was she doing?

            He couldn’t help the pure territorial snarl as she emerged from the closet, clad in one of his shirts. The black tunic fell down to several inches above mid-thigh, and he resisted the urge to pounce, to tear it off of her, to pin her to the wall—once again, he inhaled deeply. Her lean, fair legs were bare underneath, and he forced his eyes towards her face.

            Elide didn’t know what to say as she emerged from the closet in his shirt—only knew that she wasn’t naïve, and there was sheer male arousal written across his normally inexpressive face. She climbed into the bed, and a soft moan slipped out from how warm it was. She forgot that Fae males are always extremely warm—almost to an uncomfortable point, but in the coldness of the last week, it was a relief.

            Lorcan grit his teeth, his molars grinding. He could smell her, her delicate aroma laced with elderberry that called to him like nothing else. It was going to be a long fucking night.

 

           

            Elide woke up with the sun, a hazy orange glow casting the entire room in some sort of dream-like trance. The room was painted in light shades of yellows and reds, and she smiled sleepily. Moving to roll over and get off of the mattress, she froze. Lorcan was rolled over, on the very edge of the bed, giving her as much space as possible. However, the dark, brooding Fae male wasn’t the problem- she suspected he was still fast asleep.

            Somehow during the twilight, she had wrapped a slender hand around his bicep, huddling close to him, most likely to preserve heat. _Too_ close. Her alabaster skin made for a stark contrast against his sun darkened arm, tan and bronzed, brown, even. Thick veins ran underneath his skin, the muscles in his arm prominent, even in sleep. His arm, to put it lightly, was _huge_. It was several times the size of hers, bulging with muscles. She had seen his arms, even his chest, before, back when they were with the carnival and she was wearing that ridiculous oracle costume. But she had never been given the opportunity to study him, to examine the thick bands of muscle and tan skin that made up Lorcan Salvaterre.

            Her eyes traced his arm, down to his broad hands, with the long, elegant fingers. With her other hand, she carefully traced his palm, thick with callouses in all the places someone would hold their sword. His arms connected to impossibly wide shoulders, and with him rolled over, the cords of muscles in his back were on display. Elide scolded herself, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Her hand laid flat against his, and she moved to slowly, quietly withdraw it, stretching her legs across the bed as she prepared to get ready.

            She gasped, a little puff of air turning visible in the cold air, as Lorcan’s fingers entwined with hers, tightening his grip on her hand, effectively stopping her from moving an inch.

             “Stay.” Lorcan’s morning voice was rough and deep, gruff from lack of use. Even though it hadn’t been phrased as such, it sounded like a plead. His head was still turned away from her, inky black hair hiding his face. Elide’s heartbeat accelerated, and she damn well knew he could hear it. There was a heavy pressure in her chest as she quickly pulled her hand from his as if his touch burned her, and practically threw herself out of the bed, stalking into the washroom without so much as a word towards Lorcan.

              In the washroom, there was a small, old water pump, that Elide used to splash cold water on her face, effectively waking herself up. She eyed herself in the dingy mirror. Lorcan’s black shirt, far too big on her, hung loose on her body, but left her long, pale legs bare. Including her marred, gimpy ankle, swollen from use over the past few days. Her gaze travelled upwards, to her long, limp black hair, that fell down past her waist. Big, unremarkable brown eyes, dark until the light hit them. Pale skin washed out by her dark mane. Big, puffy lips, right under her straight, small nose.

              Elide looked away. There were more important things in life than beauty, at least to her. She quickly stripped out of the large black tunic, relieved herself, and changing into a tight shirt dyed a deep,  wine red color, long sleeves hiding her arms. She pulled on leather trousers and laced up her worn-out leather boots. Raking a comb through her mess of hair, Elide decided she looked mildly presentable, and stumbled out of the washroom, careful not to put too much pressure on her ankle.

               Gavriel had suggested they stay in this inn for another night, gather some more information and supplies, and Lorcan and Rowan had agreed. Elide didn’t particularly care either way, so she had given her approval as well. Now, knowing that she’d be spending another night with Lorcan, she regretted her decision.

               Elide and Lorcan had promised Rowan they’d spend the day travelling to local taverns, slyly questioning fellow travelers and the likes. The Lady of Perranth turned away from her thoughts to the bed, only to find herself alone in the cold room. Lorcan was gone.


	2. Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elide discovers her pent up anger, some old friends, and her sexuality, and drags Lorcan along for the ride.

Elide limped out of their room, down to the room Fenrys, Gavriel, and Rowan shared. Rapping her knuckles on the old, worn wood a few times, she twisted the handle when there was no reply, swinging the door open.   
Rowan sat, desolate, on one of the mattresses in the, to her surprise, much larger room. Half of his face was hidden by the way he sat, the other half covered in sprawling, thick black script, detailed ink running up and down his tanned skin, down to his arm and onto his hand. He wore a washed out blue tunic, tight against his broad chest, and he was staring at the floor.   
“Rowan?” her voice was quiet. She crossed the room, sitting next to him, leaving a decent amount of space between them on the bed.   
“She’s gone,” his voice was hoarse from disuse. Moss green eyes finally met hers, silver hair dull in the dim light.   
“I know,” Elide whispered. “But we’ll find her, okay? She’s gone, but she’s not lost.”   
Rowan was still for a long time, and Elide lost track of the minutes she sat there with the grieving Fae. His shoulders were slumped, and Elide’s heart ached for him, for his sadness.  
“She’s my mate, my fucking mate. She knew she was, I knew she was, and she let me believe she wasn’t because she thought I couldn’t handle it, not after Lyria.” Elide said nothing, but she put a hand on top of his, in a meek sign of comfort. “I promised her I’d find her, to whatever end,” Rowan said, his voice cracking. “To whatever end, Elide. I failed her, I failed my mate.”  
“You didn’t fail her,” Elide reassured him.  
“She’s my existence, Elide. Not only do I need her, I crave her, she was mine, my queen. My mate,” he sobbed, and the male crumpled into her, tears staining her shirt as she delicately lifted a hand, resting it on his back. As Rowan Whitethorne sat there and cried for his mate, who had sacrificed herself for Elide. Because of Lorcan. And as Rowan grieved, Elide felt rage seep into her. Aelin was gone because of Lorcan.   
And that was all the reminder the Lady of Perranth needed not to forgive him. 

Later, after Elide had left Rowan’s room and made her way back to her own, she found Lorcan, sprawled on the bed and staring at the ceiling, dark eyes unreadable. Elide assumed she had been gone for longer then expected, because the sun was setting. She had wasted a day.   
“Where were you,” Lorcan ground out. Elide tensed.   
“With Rowan,” she answered coolly, unwilling to give him a fight. She saw the gears, creaking in his head.  
“Alone?” Lorcan sat up, large arms flexing as he pushed himself forward, to where he was perched on the edge of the bed.   
“Yes,” she said, grabbing her satchel from the table, standing next to the bed in their small room. She saw jealousy flash through his eyes, and didn’t like how she felt seeing it. She wanted to march across the room, cup his jaw, and kiss him senseless, till all feelings of envy had left him. She would straddle him, knees on either side of his narrow hips, and—Elide shook her head, clearing it. She was angry, she recalled.   
Elide hated herself, for how indecisive her anger was. How it itched and burned at her to lash out at him, to fight and snarl and bare her teeth, but how her heart told her to forgive the Fae warrior. Lorcan smirked, his expression changing entirely as his nostrils flared.  
“Something bothering you?” he drawled. Elide shook her head, from side to side slowly. Clearly. Lorcan moved slowly off the bed, approaching her. For every step he took forward, she took two backwards.   
“I think there is,” he purred as her back hit another meaningless piece of furniture. A quick glance over her shoulder told Elide it was a dresser that was pressed against the wall. Lorcan closed in on her, like a lion on its prey, and she craned her neck up to look at him. He was so tall, and so wide, the rest of the room was blocked out from her vision with him this close. She breathed in his scent, eyelashes fluttering in an attempt to get her to give in. Give in to him.   
Elide breathed deeply through her mouth.  
“You’re right,” she admitted. Lorcan’s eyebrow lifted. “I’m bothered by the fact you betrayed my family, my friends, all for your pathetic love for your murderous bitch queen,” Elide seethed. Lorcan took a step backwards this time. “I’m bothered by the fact you’ve deluded yourself into thinking you were helping me, when all this time you were acting out of your bullshit love for Maeve, the viperous demon who whipped Aelin within an inch of her life. I’m bothered by the fact you deceived me and convinced me you saw me as anything more than some mortal trifle, some little plaything for you to pick up and then discard along the way to recovering the Wyrdkeys for your precious Queen, and why not my friends along the way? I’m bothered by the fact you convinced me to trust you, and that I let you hurt my Queen.” Elide didn’t spare a look at him as she stormed out of the room, to the best of her abilities.   
Marching down the hall, Elide noted the minimal decorations. Oak paneling, matching the oak doors, with no windows. The walls painted a dull, beige color, which was chipped and continually cracking, dingy grey carpet beneath her feet. She once again knocked on Rowan, Fenrys, and Gavriel’s door. A half clothed Fenrys opened it, leaning against the doorframe and smirking down at her while purposefully flexing his arms and torso. Used to his flirtations, Elide barged past him, adrenaline still coursing through her from yelling at Lorcan.   
“Woah, tiny, what did you do?” Fenrys questioned. “I can practically smell Lorcan’s rage from here.”   
“I talked to him,” Elide merely said. Gavriel, on one of the beds sharpening a blade, cocked an eyebrow at the mortal.   
“You did what, exactly?” the Wolf chuckled.   
“Talked to, my firm ass. Man, wish I could’ve heard it,” Fenrys whistled low. “Lorcan hasn’t been yelled at in a good few centuries, fought, yeah sure, but yelled at?”   
“Can I stay here tonight?” Elide asked bluntly. Gavriel was the one to whistle this time.  
“That bad?” he inquired, stopping his motions with the knife.  
“Of course you can, tiny,” Fenrys added, his voice turning husky and eyes liquid. “I’d be more than happy to share a bed with the likes of you.” Gavriel shook his head, chortling.  
“Not if you want to keep those hands,” Aedion’s sire stated. “I’ve heard Lorcan doesn’t like to share.”   
“I’m not his,” Elide fumed.  
“No, of course not,” Gavriel backtracked.   
“What he meant is you can have the spare bed, Rowan isn’t returning tonight either,” Fenrys covered.   
“Great,” she said. “Which bed can I take?” Fenrys pointed to the one on the left, pressed against a wall opposite a window, and Elide plopped down on it, kicking off her boots. Kneading her ankle, she curled up facing away from the males, long curtain of hair shielding her line of sight. She ignored the pounding in her head, how her chest was wringing itself dry.  
“You okay?” she heard Fenrys ask softly.   
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Elide snapped back. She immediately regretted it. “Sorry, Fenrys. Just worrying about Rowan, and Aelin.”   
“We’ll find her,” Gavriel assured, and Elide wondered if it was more for himself, then him. If the Wolf was worried, about how Aedion, the other side to Aelin’s fair coin, would ever recover from the loss of his golden Queen. If he even could.   
“I’m going to rest,” she said, and Elide curled herself even further into the bed, and her tense muscles relaxed. Closing her eyes, Elide let the dark wash over her, tangling her into meaningless dreams. 

The Lady of Perranth woke with a start, mouth impossibly dry. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, she realized that this room wasn’t as decent as hers- it had no washroom adjoined. Elide debated her options. Go back to her and Lorcan’s shared room and face the possibility of seeing him, or make her way further down the hall to the Inn’s shared one.   
The second option had far less risks, so Elide slipped silently off the bed, lacing her boots in the dark steadily. Padding out of the room as quietly as possible, even though she’s sure with their Fae senses and all, she woke her companions.   
She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips upon stumbling into the mass of a body. Raven hair, bluntly cut below his chin, framed a broad face, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Wide shoulders had blocked her, and he came up past her hips, even sitting down, knees tucked into his chest as Lorcan sat outside the room. He cracked his eyes open, and Elide couldn’t help but appreciate his long eyelashes and ebony irises, so dark his pupils looked nonexistent.   
“What are you doing up?” he croaked, voice thick with sleep.   
“What are you doing outside the room?” Elide asked, shocked. Lorcan looked up at her.   
“Making sure nothing happened to you, Elide. You seem to have an affinity for trouble.”   
“I can take care of myself,” she ground her teeth. Lorcan stood up, bracing one hand against the wall as he towered over her, maneuvering her so she was leaning against it with her full back, instead of just one shoulder, and once again, he towered over her, bracing the same hand on the wall beside her head. Elide noted, in the far back of her mind, that his hand was bigger then her head, with long, elegant fingers and wide nail beds.   
“I know that,” he murmured, using his free hand to finger a piece of her hair. “But sometimes, my instincts take over. Sometimes, I can’t help it.” Elide’s anger seemed to be very absent at the moment, like it was still asleep and a foggy haze was over it, because all she felt was warmth, heat pooling in her cheeks and between her thighs.  
“Help what?” she couldn’t resist digging, just a little bit more. Lorcan let go of her hair, his hand slowly drifting so it also was beside her head, boxing her in. His hands simultaneously curled into loose fists and he leaned even closer, resting his entire forearm against the wall, his warm breath fanning over her face.   
“My need to protect you, to make sure you’re always safe. To kill anyone who so much as thinks about interfering with that. My need for you.” Elide nearly choked.   
“There’s a difference between need, and want, Lorcan,” Elide whispered.   
“I’m well aware. And my feelings for you definitely cross into need. And I’m so sorry. I understand you can’t forgive me, but please, let me be near you.” Elide could’ve sworn he was begging. “Please, just let me protect you. That’s all I want in this life.”   
Elide couldn’t bear it. It was like her body physically couldn’t function without him, and it acted on its own accord, her hands flying before she could control them. One of them knotted itself instinctively into his dark hair, the other cupped the nape of his neck, dragging him towards her as quick as she could, mashing her lips against his own. It wasn’t really a kiss, not really- she was too inexperienced, and hadn’t put much thought behind it. It was more of a slamming of her lips into his full ones, the fleshy padding stopping both of their lips from bruising. None the less, Lorcan inhaled sharply, his hands coming away from the wall to gently hold her, opposite the way she had manhandled him.  
One strong hand found its way to the small of her back, tugging her closer to him. The other moved to her face, softly caressing her cheek as he tenderly, almost as if she would break if he pressed a little harder. He backed them up slowly, leaning her against the wall behind them. Elide angled her head better, so she wasn’t continually stabbing him in the face with her nose, and hesitantly pressed her lips firmly against his. He reciprocated, and Elide was struck by how experienced he was- five centuries worth, and Wyrd knows he had been with plenty of women. Despite herself, Elide suddenly felt insecure.   
All thoughts flew out the window as Lorcan’s hand traveled south, gently cupping a globe of her rear and pulling her firmly against his lean body. She could feel the muscles in his thighs flexing against her. She whimpered audibly, and Lorcan kissed her harder at the sound, his tongue brushing against the flesh of her bottom lip. She easily granted him access, opening her mouth and letting his tongue sweep inside, twirling around hers. She moaned low at the sound, and Lorcan’s hand on her ass squeezed at the noise. She spread her legs further, allowing him to wedge one large thigh between hers, and she squirmed against the contact, wiggling wantonly. Somewhere, she distantly reminded herself she should be embarrassed, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She knew they were moving too fast, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that, either.  
Lorcan paused, pulling back to face her. Elide silently groaned at the loss, mildly tempted to pull him back to her. The sensible part of her reminded her not too. Instead, she opened her mouth, catching her breath.   
“Can I,” she paused. “Could I come back to the room, tonight?” Lorcan chuckled.   
“It’s your room, Elide.”   
“I mean, with you?” The corners of Lorcan’s mouth turned up, and he nodded. Gesturing with his head, she got the hint, and they headed back to their shared chamber. Their room was already dimly lit, and it helped her embarrassment as he looked away while she changed into a loose pair of her trousers and shirt, keeping her under things on. When she turned around, Lorcan had already stripped of his shirt, and Elide swallowed before crawling under the brown bedsheets, on the opposite side the warrior did.  
Her anger only hindered her, it seemed. It didn’t help her, or make her feel remotely better, to shun Lorcan. With that thought in mind, her hand crept under the sheets till she felt what was his, and clasped it loosely. Lorcan tightened it, pulling her in slightly closer. She imagined they would talk about their kiss tomorrow, when it was light out and sleep wasn’t nagging at her, in the corner of her thoughts, fogging her mind. What exactly it meant.  
But despite that, Elide Lochan didn’t have any restless dreams as she slept.


End file.
